


In Every Job That Must Be Done, There Is An Element Of Fun

by geekoncaffeine



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: But no sexy times with the Gardeners face, DomNanny, F/M, First Date, Fluff, Gardener Aziraphale (Good Omens), Lipstick Of Damnation, M/M, Maze Blowjob, Mild Angst, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), NannyCrowley, Oral Sex, Oysters, Past, Romance, Second Date, Vagina Sex, femCrowley, present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekoncaffeine/pseuds/geekoncaffeine
Summary: “Godfathers. Well, I’ll be damned.”“It’s not that bad. Once you get used to it.”What happens when the Dowlings new Nanny wants to liven up her time at her new post?I can promise you one thing...Brother Francis loses the wonky face.





	1. You Go Too Fast For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsNoggin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNoggin/gifts), [noadventureshere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noadventureshere/gifts), [Irrevocably_Sherlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Sherlocked/gifts), [jaradel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/gifts), [Vulgarweed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulgarweed/gifts), [goddessinsepia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessinsepia/gifts).



> My thanks as always to goddessinsepia for beta work. To [mrsnoggin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsnoggin/pseuds/mrsnoggin) for excellent Brit picking and [circularshades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circularshades/pseuds/circularshades) for making sure certain elements were very clear.
> 
> If I missed gifting to my July birthday enablers know that I love you and happy early birthday loves!

**August 21, 2007**

“Godfathers. Well, I’ll be damned.”

“It’s not that bad. Once you get used to it.” Crowley smiled as thunder crashed outside the book shop.

**August 31, 2007 - One Week Later**

Baby Warlock was just a week old when the only applicant for the position of nanny turned up at Winfield House in Regent’s Park. Rather unfortunate about the tube strike that kept any and all other applicants away. Her perfectly quaffed red hair curled just so under her jet-black hat. Black sunglasses covered her eyes, as it was a sunny August morning after all.* The dark grey-black tweed jacket with a black button-down underneath, and matching long skirt brushed nearly mid-calf and met heeled boots of a similar colour. Indeed, the only colour the woman wore, beyond her bright hair, was a maroon tie round her neck and the reddish-pink shade of lipstick. With her also was an umbrella with parrot-like handle and ornate red carpetbag. When Butler opened the door, she stated simply, “I understand you need a nanny.”

Naturally, or supernaturally, she passed her interview with flying colors, insisting she could begin that very moment. “How perfect!” Mrs. Dowling said, covering a yawn. She was exhausted. She had planned to do all this on her own, but she missed sleep and having her husband home more often to help. When Tad initially suggested placing an ad for a nanny, she had initially balked at the idea. Yet still placed the ad in the Times the following morning. “This may seem like a silly question, but it says here you prefer to be called ‘Nanny’?”

“Yes, I’ve found using first names makes it rather confusing, and ‘Nanny’ makes it very clear as to whom one means.” Mrs. Dowling yawned again. “Oh, you poor dear, go have a laydown. I’ll take good care of young Master Warlock. Just point me in the direction of the nursery.” She patted Mrs. Dowling on the shoulder.

Limbs heavy with exhaustion, Mrs. Dowling motioned for the other woman to follow her up the winding staircase to the first floor. Such an ornate house, one Nanny had not been in and, to be honest, was a tad too busy for her tastes. Really more suited to her counterpart’s** liking. “His room is just here on the right overlooking the gardens. Your room is the next down, or there’s a connecting door to the nursery.” Mrs. Dowling opened the door to reveal a dark-coloured nursery. Not the usual bright and cheery look of most nursery rooms. No, this one was all dark blue paint on the walls and the darkest cherry furniture for the baby. But Nanny thought this must be the work of her people. Start him young and all that rot.*** “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Nanny waited for the infant’s mother to close the door before setting down her things and quietly making her way to the crib. She removed her glasses, holding them in one hand while resting the other on the crib rail. “Hello darling, we meet again.” She studied the sleeping infant nestled snug in his crib. She left him sleeping and gathered her things to bring them into the room next door. 

This room, clearly not decorated by her people, was a gaudy as a room could be. There was pink everywhere. Honestly, were they expecting Dolores Umbridge to be Nanny to their boy? Nanny shuddered and replaced her glasses, unpacking what few items she had brought with her (she could easily whip up anything she needed from nothing). However, changing the whole room's decor would have been noticed. Though there were some redeeming qualities to it. The four-poster bed was a nice touch and looked to be early 18th century. With any luck, the mattress would not be. There was also a writing desk from that time period. Creature comforts she would call them.

From the carpetbag, she removed a small house plant mister, as well as three blouses and two skirts, which she promptly hung in the small closet the room provided. She would have to see what the rest of the house had to offer before “unpacking” anything else in her room. Nanny was about to test out the mattress when she heard her new charge stirring in response to the doorbell. _Well, we’ll definitely have to do something about **that**_ , she thought, passing back into the infant’s room. “It’s alright, dear. Nanny’s here.”

The doorbell was ringing at the servants’ entrance. On the doorstep was a man of average height, bit of pudge round the middle, with white hair, outlandish sideburns, and bucked teeth dressed in the oddest clothing. A brown hat, beige tunic, and pants with a knotted blue tartan scarf round his neck. He looked to be about a century behind in his dress. “‘They do say as you might be lookin’ for a gardener.”

Brother Francis was hired on the spot, of course. Angelic miracles being what they were. He was lead across the garden to his modest “shed” by one of the staff. Much like the nanny who had been hired just an hour before, he too only had one large bag with him, containing all he would need. As he followed the younger man, he felt as though he was being watched, and turned to look back at the sprawling manor. There, on the second floor, he could just make out what looked like Crowley rocking baby Warlock…but was he wearing lipstick? Brother Francis would be sure to work close to the house in order to get a word in with him today. Until then, he looked forward to settling in.

He stepped through a hedge that hid away the head gardener’s modest “shed” -- a two-storey stone cottage left out of any of the renovations made over the years to Winfield. Brother Francis took the key he was offered and let himself in. He noted there was a small kitchen with a table and two chairs and small sitting area with one bookshelf, chair, and small side table on the first floor. He slowly made his way upstairs to find a small bathroom and bedroom with dresser, full-sized bed, and night table. This seemed more the place for his counterpart he thought.**** But began humming Bach to himself as he unpacked.

**Later that same afternoon…**

Nanny decided to take young Warlock out on the garden path nearest the house for a walk in his pram. Bit of fresh air would the baby some g--. Well. Maybe he’d catch a cold. Perhaps she would also be able to have a word with Aziraphale. After all, who else would come up with such a ridiculous disguise? Though it wasn’t as if they had discussed their plans with each other. Maybe if they had, she would have told him it wouldn’t be necessary to change his face like that, and she didn’t like it one bit.

As luck would have it, the new gardener was tending to the flower bed near the same path, and picking enough flowers for the dinner table vases. He spotted her and stood up as they approached. “What are you playing at Crowley?” He asked as she and the pram moved within earshot.

“I’d ask you the same, and it’s _Nanny_ , if you don’t mind,” she snapped.

He looked her up and down, and only then noticed more than the lipstick… _much more_ than the lipstick. “Crow— Nanny, erm… do you have—“

Angels were a ridiculous lot. “That’s a fine bit of cheek coming from you! But yes, I am all me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toesss.” She hissed through her teeth. The baby fussed a bit, as babies do when no one is paying them any mind. “There, there, darling. He didn’t mean to upset you. Now did you, Az…?” Nanny patted Warlock on his tummy to settle him, realizing she didn’t know how to address the angel.

“Brother Francis, if it please ya.” Oh, Lord. He’d heard of angels and demons who could change their appearance and sex at will, but in the 6,000 years he’d known Crowley, the demon hadn’t hinted he was one of them. Well, thank the good Lord for his disguise’s new billowing tunic as his small-waisted frenemy’s new appearance caused a bit of a discomfort downstairs… if one caught his meaning.*****

It suited Aziraphale. The name, not the face. At least she’d kept her face mostly the same, styled the hair a bit more feminine. The pert tits, arse and… the rest… were also very new. Though not exactly new to her. She’d done this once before, after their unfortunate “incident” in St. James’s Park in 1862. A change was needed, a fresh start, of sorts, so Crowley had become Lady Antonia Crowlee for a time, and for an assignment too! But that was then, and this was now. Now she was here to make sure this baby didn’t grow up to destroy the world, with the help of someone who had rolled all of Sherlock Holmes’ disguises into one. It would be a long five years…unless. She suddenly had an idea to make things a little more _fun_.

The baby began to fuss again, so she pushed the pram gently back and forth before speaking. “You know, we never talked about reporting back to one another on our progress with the child, before reporting into our respective head offices. What say you to end of the month meetings?” Yes, that would do nicely.

“It could do, though I’m only expected to report in yearly upstairs.”

“Fine, then we should meet at the end of next month to plan. After everyone is in for the night, we’ll take a stroll through your gardens.”

The angel considered it and nodded. It would do well to figure out how he was influencing a baby who would be under the constant care of his nanny or mother for the foreseeable future. Which would, of course, go against their arrangement to make the child neither good nor evil. “After dinner then. Back to work, much to do, Nanny.”

She gave him a mock salute as she turned the pram round and pushed it back towards the house. Certainly the boy’s “parents” would want to spend some time with him before they sat down to dinner. Besides, a month would give Nanny a bit of time to make some plans of her own for next month’s evening meeting with the gardener.

Their first month in service was busy for both of them. As it turned out, Warlock’s mother was very “hands-on” when it was important to be. Mostly when her husband was looking or she was meeting other mothers in the parks for walks. The rest of the time, he was all Nanny’s responsibility, leaving her very little free time. Why humans reproduced was still a mysterious part of the ineffable plan.

The gardener likewise found himself busy with planting this and that or at least making it look like he was planting this or that. Mostly he stuck close enough to Nanny and Warlock to hear what it was she was up to. Like reading to him from the Book of Revelations. One such afternoon, he offered to take over so as she might have a moment to herself for a moment that morning. He took the opportunity to read to him the good bits of the Good Book to young Warlock until her return.

**September 27, 2007 - Evening**

Before they knew it, the night of their first meeting was upon them. That evening, after most of the house had retired, Nanny left through the servants’ entrance and went out into the courtyard where Francis waited for her. “Ah! There you are, Nanny! Now let me show you that flower I was telling you about -- the one that only opens at night.”

Nanny snorted, though the double entendre went clear over Brother Francis’s head. She started off towards the small garden maze she had seen from her window over the last few weeks. That would make a fine secluded spot. There was a slight chill in the air, so she had worn the longer coat that went nearly to the ground. She also wore a pair of heels with enough height to make any man notice. Brother Francis, she noticed, was in the same attire since the day they first started. “Before we go any further, you’ll put your real face on, the face I know. I simply cannot take you seriously like this.”

He rolled his eyes, but did as she had asked. In an instant, he looked like her old friend. “You know, the same could be said for you.”

“Nothing has changed about me that hasn’t changed before. This is just the first time you’ve seen me like this. But my face is still the same, just with a bit of lipstick. It’s Damnation.”

“Beg pardon?”

“The lip shade, it’s called Damnation. Forget it.” She waved a hand as they continued into the maze.

Once they found a dead-end Francis finally spoke. “So, what’s the plan then for these monthly meetings?”

She sat on the marble bench in the secluded end of the maze. There was just enough moonlight to see one another clearly. Crossing her legs, her coat fell away and revealed she wasn’t wearing much at all, black silk stockings and garters that disappeared under her coat. Patting the empty space on the bench next to her, she invited him to sit.

 _What the heavens was she playing at?_ He tried not to look or wonder what else was and wasn’t underneath that coat. “Catch your death like that.”

“Not likely.” 

“This isn’t what we’re here for and you know it.” Anything to change the subject and… perhaps tamper down the tenting in his pants.

“Should be. Why shouldn’t we have a little fun while attempting to prevent the end of the world? Won’t hurt anything.” Which was true if they kept these trysts to the evenings when she wasn’t in charge of the child. Besides, they were friends and had wanted something like this for a few years, which was putting it mildly. At least here, neither of their sides would be the wiser.

Which is exactly what she explained to him. “So, what do you say?”

She had a point. “Right here though?”

“You have a better place in mind?” Nanny teased.

“Ah I do, but I’m… uh… in no state to walk there.” 

“Well, Brother Francis, then here it is.” She swung off the bench and dropped to her knees between his already spread legs. How accommodating. Pushing his shirt up, she snapped her fingers, undoing his trousers. She deftly freed his already erect cock into her greedy hand.

A low groan rumbled from his throat. Reaching up, he fisted his left hand in some of the shrubbery whilst his right hand white-knuckled the marble bench he was barely sitting up on.

She grinned and flicked her forked tongue over the head of his cock, like her favorite strawberry ice-lolly from St. James’s Park. Her tongue continued up and down the length of him, willing him to come. She continued like this for a few moments longer, then took the length of him into her throat. Feeling he wouldn’t last much longer and needing a touch of relief herself she unfastened her coat to reveal a green floral bra that barely covered her nipples and just the garter belt.

Quickly slithering atop him, she pressed herself down the full length of him and rode him to a nearly heart-stopping climax, leaving them both a little shaken. Composing herself, she made quick work of their mess and stood buttoning her coat and allowing him to right himself. “There now. Wasn’t that practically perfect in every way? As for the boy, we continue to do what we’ve been doing, and we meet here or wherever you like for a quick fuck.”

That was most certainly _not_ how this was going to go. It certainly wasn’t how he had intended their first time together to go after all these years. “Look Nanny… Lord, I cannot keep calling you that! You must have thought up a name if someone asks?”

“In fact, I have. It’s Rachael. If you _must_ know.”

She had said it so fast he wasn’t certain he had heard her right. “Raphael is a man’s name.” He looked slightly confused.

“Rachael, R-A-C-H-A-E-L” 

“Rachael.” Francis tested it out. “It suits you.” He said, momentarily forgetting the moment on the bench just seconds previous.

“If you think that suits me, I could show you one or two other things that would suit me before I have to get back to the house.”

Putting his hands up in surrender or defense he spoke again. “You… you go too fast for me, Rachael. Goodnight.” He brushed past her and made his way out of the maze, leaving her standing in the moonlight…alone.

* That and golden snake eyes were sure to be a bit of a turn off to employers. No matter how many demonic tricks one had up their sleeves.  
** Have you seen inside A. Z. Fell & Co?  
*** Pottery Barn Kids by Hell (we deliver, but we don’t set up)  
**** If you’d ever been to Crowley’s flat you would find he lived rather sparsely.  
***** You could in fact currently hold a rather small circus in Brother Francis’ pants at this very moment and no one would be any the wiser.


	2. We Had Oysters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He avoided her for nearly three weeks. 
> 
> Now it was time to take matters into his own hands!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always to  goddessinsepia  for beta work. To  mrsnoggin for excellent brit picking and  CircularShades  for making sure certain elements were very clear.

He avoided her for nearly three weeks. Taking meals in his little cottage, working in the greenhouse with his staff present. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy what they had done or fear of Falling.* Quite the contrary. It was as he had said: _You go too fast for me Rachael_. Clearly, he needed to take matters into his own hands, as it were, and slow things down so they both received enjoyment from it. Make it a bit more like what he hoped their first time would be.

First, he would invite her to the cottage for a meal. Not that either of them actually needed to eat, but they did enjoy it on occasion. He would have to work quickly on setting his plans in motion as there was talk of the family taking a trip home for some American holiday. Though the thought of the food they mentioned did make him a bit peckish, especially the sweet potato and marshmallow dish he’d heard the Ambassador mention.

Early one October morning, he sat at his little table in his cottage writing up his dinner invitation. There was also the list of items to gather for the meal. If he recalled correctly, in their almost 6,000 year friendship oysters had never been on the menu. Those were easy enough to obtain. There would be wine, cheese, perhaps some fruit and bread. Simple and slow. As it happened, they both had that Wednesday evening off due to the Ambassador hosting some Halloween gathering for the Ambassador’s office staff and the like. Perfect. 

With those settled, he set off for the residence to leave the invitation for Nanny Rachael and get along with his day of setting out the pumpkins and hay bales that would be delivered shortly.

Rachael arrived at the cottage at 7pm precisely. Once again donning her floor length black trench coat with the single pearl clasp, but underneath, she had worn a dress. Though the temptation had been to wear little -- or nothing -- at all. His words had hurt her deeply. Just as they had in 1967. Maybe he had been right then and now, but fast was the only speed the demon knew. So instead of nothing, she’d chosen a simple knee length black dress with a slight V-neck. Under that however, was another matter. 

For tonight, she had gone for simple, yet seductive. A matching, nearly sheer, grey lace design of roses on both bra and thong that hugged all of her curves in all the right places. Stockings were carefully chosen to match the undergarments, along with her favorite snakeskin stilettos with that perfect little ankle strap that begged to be left on. As she checked her watch, she noted she was lucky she had made it to his little cottage on time at all. No thanks to the little darling.

She had just finished buckling her left shoe when there was a knock at the door. “Yes, come in.”

“Oh, good! You’re still here. I was wondering… well! Who is the lucky man?” Mrs. Dowling asked, a bit shocked. She’d never seen any of her staff so done up in the 18 months they’d been assigned to this post.

“No one special, ma’am, just a friend’s birthday, insists we go as posh as possible. Can I help you? Do you need me to stay in?” She hoped not, but would stay if needed. It was her “job” after all.

“No, no. I just cannot seem to find Warlocks favorite blankie. Have you seen it?” There was a hint of urgency in her voice. While she knew the child wouldn’t know the difference between the one with the ducks and the one with the horses, his mother would, and that was enough.

“Yes, one moment.” She dashed next-door and back in a flash. “Kicked under his crib the little devil.” She handed over the blanket.

“You are a saint!” Mrs. Dowling took the blanket and rushed from the room.

Rachael looked as if she might just vomit at being called… one of those things. She shuddered at the memory as she knocked at the door. Whilst she waited, she examined the exterior of the small cottage and noticed Francis had decorated a bit for the festivities at the main house. There was a hay bale as well as two pumpkins sitting on top of them.

Francis waited a good ten seconds before opening the door for Rachael. “Sorry to keep you! I was just putting on my face, as it were.” Of course, he still sounded a bit like Brother Francis and looked like him in other areas, but she was fine with it. She had always liked his face like this. Clean shaven, hair in a constant state of looking like he missed a barber appointment. In a word: him.

“Not long at all.” She leaned in to kiss him, but to her surprise, he grabbed one hand brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss. He led her inside. “May I take your coat?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice after what had happened the last time he’d taken her coat. Delightful, but far too fast. Unfastening the clasp, she shrugged the coat off her shoulders and allowed him to help the rest of the way. “Don’t you look lovely.”

“Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.” He had gone with his usual beige trousers, brownish waistcoat, and white shirt, but had neglected his usual tartan bow tie and overcoat he typically wore when not on assignments. Looking around his humble home, she smiled at the simplicity of it all and the obvious care he had put into this evening. There were candles on the table, which was set for two, with wine already poured, while any other lights were dimmed for the occasion.

“If you’ll come through, dinner is ready.” Leading her to her chair, he pulled it out and waited for her to sit, then took his own seat opposite her. “I thought we’d try oysters.” He grinned.

“Never did manage that temptation, did you?” She raised her glass and an eyebrow.

“Never the right time. Cheers.” Clinking their glasses, they each took a sip. The angel set his down before speaking again. ”After you.” She picked four oysters, as well as some pieces of bread, cheese, and fruit, and then watched him do the same. She had been experienced in many, many things, but eating an oyster was not one. “My dear, whatever is the matter?” The angel looked at her quizzically.

She put down her glass. “This is ridiculous, but I’ve no idea how you actually eat one of these things.” Thankfully she had her dark glasses on, which hid her embarrassment.

Well darn, this was not going to plan at all. “Oh, let me show you!” He picked up a half shell and a small fork. She lowered her glasses a bit to watch him. He moved the oyster about its liquid-filled shell with the fork to free it a bit. ”Now that it’s free you simply slurp it from the shell and chew a bit. You can also use sauce if you like, but I never do.” Francis picked up his napkin and dabbed at his lips a bit. “Give it a try.”

So she did. Unlike Francis, Rachael held hers on the plate to release them before attempting to slurp them down. “Bit briny I think, but not bad.” She picked up her glass for a long sip. “What’s the wine?”

“Oh, a 2005 Chateau de Chasseloir Muscadet, from my own collection. Do you like it?” Perhaps he’d at least gotten that right. 

“Delightful, as are the oysters. Just different.”

They continued to eat while chatting about the ridiculous event their employer was hosting tonight. ** The wine in the bottle dropped until it was nearly empty. The plates soon followed. “Well, dessert?”

Naturally, what she wanted to say, and what she actually said were two very different things. Very. Different. “I don’t think I could.”

He stood and cleared the plates to the sink. They would keep for the night. “I think you can. Oh, and I’ve another bottle open if you like?”

“I suppose we can sober up if needed. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” As it was, she already felt the effects of the bottle they had just enjoyed.

True enough. Instead, he filled their glasses, then set the bottle on the table. As he did, he took note of her shoes. “Well, these will never do. Might I help you out of them?”

“If-if you must.” This had taken a turn. In all honesty, this was not where she had planned the night to go. Hell, she hadn’t intended them to get much past dinner, yet here they were. Francis bent down on one knee and took her calf in his left hand and gently undid the buckle of one shoe then dropped it to the floor. The second followed in the same fashion. “Is this all part of some ineffable plan, Francis?”

He looked up into her dark glasses. “Mine, yes.” With that he pushed up ever so and gently kissed her on the mouth, catching her perfectly by surprise. The small gasp he heard made both his heart and trousers swell a bit. When he sat back on his heels, he smiled but wanted to see her whole face. “I do wish you’d remove your glasses. It’s not like I haven’t seen you without them before.”

“You haven’t seen me without them like this though. I-I can’t, not yet.” It was true how many times had he seen hi- her without those glasses on, but not now. Her eyes always gave away too much where he was concerned. It was her last bit of armor, though in this case there was no battle to be won, aside from the one with herself.

Francis wanted to push, but there was time yet. Instead, he stood and held out a hand. She took it, and he led her up the stairs, their wine forgotten on the table. The stairs were quite narrow, not even divine intervention could have saved her ankles had she tried to take on the stairs in those shoes. The bedroom door was open, the soft glow from a dozen candles the only light in the room. Lovely. The duvet was pulled back to reveal white sheets waiting, wanting. “Won’t you come in?”

Whoever had said angels couldn’t pull of temptations clearly had never met this one. Though this wasn’t a temptation, technically. This had always been a seduction. She didn’t answer, but instead walked past him into the small room and stood in front of the bed. Rachael had no idea how the tables had turned on her so quickly, but she could surely turn it in her favor. She was a demon, after all. “Francis I-“

Knowing how her mind worked, he moved quickly and pulled her to him, crushing his mouth to hers. Tongues sampled and tasted. Teeth grazed and Rachael’s lust kicked in, as she clawed at his waistcoat, sending buttons everywhere. She was going for his shirt buttons when he grabbed her upper arms. “Slowly now.” He ran his hands up into her hair and kissed her again.

She’d play his game, for now, but there would come a point where she would win. She always did. Returning the favor, she kissed and nipped at his neck, wanting more but following his lead. He released her a moment so they both could catch their breath. Rachael took the opportunity to sit on the bed. Best to get something under her weak legs. Though now she was now eye level with a very obvious erection, and she wanted very badly to suck his cock.

Anticipating her move, he sat next to her on the bed, resting a hand on her lap and drawing lazy circles on her thigh, causing the dress to creep up bit by bit. She looked down at his hand and felt a tingling sensation she hadn’t felt since her last time in this body in 1862. “I’d like to touch you if I may?” Nodding she lifted the hem of her dress when she felt his hand on hers. “No, all of you.” Reaching behind her, he slowly undid the zipper and gently pulled the dress from her shoulders.

She helped to lift herself from the bed and remove the rest of the material, leaving on just the very sheer grey floral bra, thong, and stockings. “Well then, Brother Francis, is this what you wanted to see?” Leaning back on her elbows, she gave him a full-length view of her body.

“My God,” he whispered. She was beautiful. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to start. He started by dropping a kiss on her right shoulder and sliding the strap down her arm. Francis felt her reach for his shirt front. “No, this is all about you. Relax and let me.”

With his free hand, he made a small wave of his hand at the back of the bra and the clasps came undone.*** Gently he pushed her back on the bed and kissed her neck, down to her breast. His other hand cupped her left breast, gently flicking his thumb over her nipple. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he smiled against her skin and moved lower, kissing along her ribs, stomach, and hips.

Reaching the top of the thong, he hooked a finger under the waistband and eased them over her hips. Glancing up, he could tell she enjoyed what he was doing; her hands were fisted into the sheets. A soft hiss escaped her lips and he pressed on. She was already wet and wanting, that was certain. He managed the small miracle of doing away with his clothing. Feeling more freedom to move, he leaned in to kiss her right thigh, his right thumb and forefinger drawing more lazy circles on her left thigh. 

With each kiss, he moved closer and her breathing became more ragged. Taking a tentative flick of her clit with his tongue, he felt one hand fist in his hair. He did it again, this time making those lazy circles to mimic the same motions of his hand. He allowed her to guide him and followed what few directions he could understand.

Rachael was panting now, her face flushed. This foreplay and seduction had gone on long enough, thank you very much. “Pleassssse” She hissed as one orgasm coursed through her body. Releasing his hair, she pulled him up her body to get him where she needed him. She arched up, to push her clit towards the tip of his cock.

Francis reached for her dark glasses that she’d refused to remove their last time together. But she was faster and clasped his wrists tight. “Leave them be and fuck me!” 

“I’m awfully tired of you hiding behind these things. Just this once. I want to see all of you.” He said with a hint of a pout that drove her just a little mad. “Then yes, I will more than happily continue to make love to you, Rachael.” Reluctantly, she let his wrists go and allowed him to remove the offensive eyewear. 

She heard them being set gently on the side table rather than tossed somewhere on the floor. Her pupils were dilated wide. Rachael opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she was too transfixed by the look on the gardener’s face.

Ever so gently, he brushed his hand along her jawline and slowly rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “My, you are beautiful. Simply beautiful.” His hand continued slowly brushing down her neck, across her collar bone, over the soft peak of her breast, down over her ribs to finally settle on her hip.

“Don’t ssstop. You promisssed.” She couldn’t help the hissing now. This was almost torture. A sweet, intoxicating torture that just might discorporate her very soon.

He had promised, but seeing her, all of her like this was breathtaking. The flutter of her eyelids, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. All of it was a sight. But if he waited any longer, he wouldn’t last… and he wanted to last. “I did, but we do this my way, my dear. Slow. For both of us.” Brother Francis shifted on the bed ever so slightly so that he was positioned to push into her slow and steady, as promised. In and out ever so slowly, he had to keep himself in check. He managed to find a rhythm that worked and felt her arch up to meet each thrust.

Her eyes stayed on his as he penetrated her, and her breath caught in her throat. Their previous hot and heavy fuck had been grand, but this was…something else. Something she liked. Keeping her eyes on him, she snaked a hand around his neck to pull him in for soft, almost chaste kiss -- light flicks of her tongue on his lips. Feeling him shudder gave her a slight tingle of her own. “Yesss, Francisss. I’m ready.” She closed her eyes, as her back arched again, and she felt him quicken the pace slightly as their mutual passion for one another built.

At the rate they were going, the bed was going to give out before they would. Lord in heaven, he was close and so was she. “Rachael, open your eyes. I—I want to, see you— when—“ 

Her eyes flew open -- dark black pools with a hint of gold. He would drown in for all eternity. He heard his own name as barely a whisper on her lips as their combined orgasms overtook them. As he attempted to gain control of his breathing, he rested his forehead on hers and was surprised to find her smiling. Brushing aside a little strand of hair, she spoke, “Where did you learn to do all that?” She asked still trying to regulate her own breathing.

“You know there’s a bookshop in London, A. Z. Fell & Co. peculiar place and owner, but he does carry all manner of texts.”

They both dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Why Brother Francis, I had no idea,” Rachael said with mock offense.

He rolled ever so slightly, so they were facing one another. “Well, Nanny Rachael, there’s still a great deal you don’t know about me, but I dare say we both still have some things to learn about one another and a bit of time to find out.” Lightly cupping her face, he leaned in to gently kiss her on the lips again.

She placed her free hand over his and deepened the kiss as the candles burned down. They may or may not put an end to Armageddon in eleven years, but one thing was for certain -- it was going to be a very pleasure-filled time in service to the Dowlings.

* They didn’t call the Archangel Michael wank-wings behind her back for shits and giggles.  
** Guy Fawkes Day was the far bigger draw in the UK at the time.  
*** No point in fighting with those were there?


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always to  goddessinsepia  for beta work. To  mrsnoggin for excellent brit picking and  CircularShades  for making sure certain elements were very clear.

**Eleven Years Later - October 31, 2018**

They had won after all. With no thanks to either Nanny Rachael or Brother Francis, as it turned out. It’s a rather good thing neither Crowley or Aziraphale were at all competent. But that had been two and a half months ago. Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley since their celebratory lunch at the Ritz. Crowley had to sleep off “nearly losing it all” whatever that meant.

So Aziraphale did what he always did, busied himself in his shop, when suddenly he heard what sounded like singing on his desk. 

_Ooh love ooh loverboy_  
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy  
Set my alarm, turn on my charm  
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy… 

It came from a box that had not been there that morning. The angel was sure of it. He opened the box quickly, if only to make the music stop. It appeared to be one of those infernal devices Crowley always had with him, and this one was showing Crowley’s face and name. Tapping at the green button, Aziraphale answered. “He-hello?”

“Hello, angel. See you got the gift I sent,” Crowley yawned.

“Yes, I did. You know I have a perfectly good phone right here. In my shop.” The angel said pointing at the phone he realized Crowley couldn’t see.

“Look I just thought you might like this. Listen, I’m awake now. Thought we might go out tonight. I think I must owe you a dinner or some such thing. I’ll come by at 8.” He hung up not giving the angel time to respond. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he set to work. He had a lot to do and not a great deal of time.

Aziraphale dropped the phone back in its box. Ridiculous thing. But dinner would do nicely. There was a little place called Angelo’s he’d heard about and had wanted to try for ages. Crowley did owe him; he was sure of it. Checking his pocket watch, he noted he had a good five hours before the Bentley would turn up. Plenty of time to take stock of some new inventory and answer some correspondence.

At 7:59, Crowley walked through the doors of the bookshop. He wore his usual black jeans and blazer, grey waistcoat, and black t-shirt complete with snakeskin belt and boots. Hair and dark glasses just so. “Ready?”

“Yes, I thought we’d try that place I had been telling you abou—“

“Not tonight, angel. I think what I said was ‘dinner or some such thing’.” The demon grinned, and motioned his hand for Aziraphale to follow.

“Well, fine, but you still owe me.”

“I know, but I think you’ll like this.” 

Behind the wheel of the Bentley, he did pay the traffic laws a little more mind as it was Hallowe’en and there were children about. It still didn’t take them long to arrive at their destination, Winfield House. *

Recognizing it immediately, Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “Whatever are we doing here?”

“Gardens are open to the public on Halloween.”** He stepped out of the car and reached in the back for a picnic hamper. “Thought it would be fun. Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale did as he was told, more out of curiosity than anything else. He wasn’t sure what Crowley was playing at. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to play along. They walked along the paths they had walked years ago, with different faces, in a different time. Families with children, couples, and security passed them, not paying the two men any mind. “It hasn’t really changed much, has it?”

“No, not really. Care to stroll through the maze?”

The angel gulped, recalling what happened the last time he ‘strolled’ through the maze with the demon. “That’s alright. Let’s walk on a bit more.” Good Lord, there were children about.

“S’ fine, I’ve a better idea anyway. Come on.” He ducked down another path and Aziraphale dutifully followed. It wasn’t a long walk and they were at the small stone cottage before they knew it. “Still standing then. Shame it’s not in use.” It was true the outsourced that kind of thing these days to a landscaping company. Cheaper the President said. Cheapskate Congress had said. “Shall we?”

“What if we get caught?”

“Who’s going to catch us? Come on angel, live a little.” He opened the door and stepped inside. 

Looking around, Aziraphale followed him inside and closed the door. He turned and smacked right into Crowley’s back. The cottage had not seemed so small when they’d been here last. “Sorry.” Peering around Crowley, it didn’t look as though he…er… “Brother Francis” had ever left.

“Have a seat while I put things out.” Crowley set down the hamper and opened it. He took out two wine glasses and a bottle of 2007 Chateau de Chasseloir Muscadet, perfectly chilled.

Aziraphale suddenly felt very warm. He removed his long white coat and hung it on the back of his chair. What was Crowley up to? They’d never spoken of their time here. Probably for the best. After all, no sense wondering what could have been, or even if Crowley wanted there to be a _thing_ afterward. Rachael had been let go after Warlock’s fifth birthday. The next time he saw Crowley was a year later, and he looked like he did now. He hadn’t said a word about the last six years. 

“And here we are… oysters! I hope they’re good. I still don’t know a thing about oysters. Well, dig in.”

He did, with trepidation. “Crowley, what is all this?” Aziraphale waved his hand at everything in general.

“Angel…” The demon removed his sunglasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket before scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “I-I’m not sure. I just remember having some of the best times of my 6,000 some odd years here at this house with you… sort of. I wanted to… Never mind. It’s stupid.” He started to push back from the table when Aziraphale reached out to stop him.

“Oh, my dear.” The angel stood but did not release Crowley’s hand as he came around the table. He got down on his knees next to Crowley’s chair. “Well, this is familiar.” He looked up at Crowley with his best and brightest smile. His friend was as sad as he had ever seen him. “Tell me.”

“Can’t.” He shrugged “You’re my best friend.” He choked back tears. Thought he’d slept all this out of his system -- nearly losing the one person he ever loved and had shown real love to. Clearly coming back to this cottage had been a terrible idea. Horrible.

“Crowley, I insist or I really will never speak to you again.” It had worked before. They’d sort of saved the world that way, hadn’t they?

He had him there. Crowley slid off the chair and into the angel’s waiting arms. With a heavy sigh, he let it all out. “When…when I found your shop ablaze, I really thought I had lost you and I’d never had the chance to tell you what you’d meant to me. What those five years out of 6,000 really meant to me. So when I woke up today and saw I hadn’t missed the anniversary of our only proper date, I got it into my head to recreate it.” Crowley stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he could keep going.

If one could be discorporated with words, this would probably be the way. He listened to the demon talk. He hadn’t realized he had begun stroking Crowley’s hair until he stopped and felt the demon push closer to his chest. “I have a small confession of my own to make. While I was trying to get back to save the world, of course, I also knew I had to get back to you. You’ve always been more than my best friend, Crowley. You must know that?”

Crowley sat up to face his angel. He took Aziraphale’s hands in his. “I think I did. Didn’t want to admit it case it all went pear-shaped. But I did.” He looked down, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I think there’s one more thing you should know before we continue whatever this is. Crowley isn’t my original name from the Almighty.” 

“I had figured that out eleven years ago, Raphael. I must admit, I prefer Crowley.” Aziraphale pulled a hand free to gently lift Crowley’s face. “I love this Crowley, I love you.” He enjoyed seeing the slight shock on the demon’s face as what he had said registered. He leaned in to gently kiss him on the mouth.

Crowley reluctantly broke the kiss, but he had something he had to say. If he didn’t say it soon, he might burst into flames. “I-I love you ang- Aziraphale,”

The angel smiled that perfect little smug smile and pulled them both to their feet. “Come on then.” He pulled them towards the stairs.

“What about all this?”

“It’ll keep my dear.”

Crowley just nodded and followed him up. This time, Aziraphale entered the room first and turned to face the door as Crowley entered. Candles flickered to life at the snap of his fingers and their clothing vanished save for sheer grey boxers for Crowley and a rather interesting shade of reddish-pink for the Aziraphale. “Damnation looks good on you angel.”***

The angel’s cheeks flushed the new color of his pants. “Crowley…” He was rather concerned that he would rush things again. He’d also tried covering his very obvious erection that had come at the demon’s admission of love.

“I don’t plan on rushing this one bit. Lie down angel, pleassse.”

Aziraphale sat on the bed and scooted back so he could rest his head against the pillows. He watched as Crowley slithered up his body to lay next to him and pulled him close. Face to face, Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands to kiss his angel slow and sweet, enjoying the soft sighs he elicited. When he was free to speak again Aziraphale said, “Yes, I rather think we have eternity.” He leaned back in to kiss Crowley. As he did the candles dimmed just a bit. 

Outside, over Winfield House, fireworks went off in bursts of reds and whites. They were not on the evening’s programme.

* The “holiday” had taken off a bit more these days.  
** The gardens of Winfield are not in fact open on Halloween night to wander as you please. Don’t do this. You will be detained by Secret Service.  
*** Did you forget about the lipstick colour? Reader: I didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my silly self on twitter at GeekOnCaffeine


End file.
